Hamakua
The Breath of Life

This song is a little rogue diamond. I snuck it in. I didn't write it during the same young days as all of the others. But I just couldn't not put this song on the record. It is such a crucial tune that defines this time, even though it was a little later in the timeline. I was probably nearly 22 when I wrote this song. I had already come back to Hawaii after meeting my mom, traveling Northern California, going to Burning Man, and now was living on the 'farm' with 'ol 7 Feathers (Jason Fox). I had spent a few months on Kona side after returning to the aina picking coffee and sleeping in my truck. Jason called me and invited me to come live with him. It made sense. I'd already helped him with a few building projects the year before, and now more than ever it seemed we both were in search of brotherhood. There was a deeper vision to be explored. It would be there, in the rolling hills of Hamakua where many of the songs of Medicine for the People would be born. I'll never forget those first three years living in the mist of what the Kanaka Maoli called Creator's Breath.

Those were some hard years too. Jason brought me in and allowed me to claim my stake there in that soil. We became a team. He showed me the ropes of hammer and nail, and I earned my place. We both worked a number of jobs to stay afloat. Construction, landscaping, picking fruit, tree trimming, and whatever else could stack a few bills. Most [of] the money we made would get reinvested in the daily living expenses, farm tools, or trees and plants. On days off, we would explore the jungles and waterfalls that surrounded and bordered the 23-acre parcel. Truly, this was a playground paradise, and we got to know every nook and cranny. There was a particular tree down by the waterfall where we would shower that was a favorite of mine. It was the only Ohia on the property, and it cast its long branches over that water as if it was its guardian. Ohio takes a long time to grow. In fact, it is the first tree to grow from the lava, so when you see one you know it has been there for a long time. I figured if that tree could have the patience to grow through the darkness and into the light, well, so could I. That perch would be my place of refuge when Jason and I had our differences. You see, I'm an Aquarian. Jason, he's a Taurean. Both of us fiercely independent. It's safe to say we butted heads from time to time. Years later, I realized how impatient I was with him. I wanted to evolve more rapidly, to be air, try things out, let it flow. Jason liked his ways, fiercely earth, and was much slower to change. Needless to say, in my youth, I was a firecracker. Perhaps some would say I still am.

In the last verse, I touch on some youthful philosophy I'd decided on about relationships and love. Instead of focusing on pining after someone I wanted to keep and be just for me, my medicine became the fact that people always leave. Lovers come and go. With that in mind at the time, I could try to live without the suffering from the departure of the physical, to be present in each moment, and live in gratitude for time well spent. Each notch I climbed in my great wall to consciousness led me higher to reasoning. I let my first archetype die, little by little. After all, before Hamakua, who the hell was I?